


Tonight

by Mottled_System



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftercare, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anal creampie, BDSM, Begging, Biting, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bondage, Break Up, Breathplay, Breeding, Bruises, Choking, Choose Your Own Ending, Codependency, Consensual Non-Consent, Creampie, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dominant Kylo Ren, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Fantasizing, Fantasizing About Necrophilia, Fear, Fear of Death, Fetish, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Force Bondage, Gags, Glove Kink, Golden shower, Hair-pulling, Han Solo Lives, Hand & Finger Kink, Happy Ending, Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kink Shaming, Kinky, Kissing, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Leather, Leather Kink, Lightsaber Used as a Sex Toy, Lightsabers, Making Love, Making Out, Masochism, Master/Pet, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Cuddling, Naked Female Clothed Male, Name-Calling, Neck Kissing, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Ownership, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pet Names, Pining, Piss, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Pregnancy, Punishment, Redeemed Ben Solo, Restraints, Riding Crops, Rough Oral Sex, Sad, Sad Ending, Sadism, Safewords, Scratching, Sexual Violence, Shame, Shameless Smut, Simulated Drowning, Simultaneous Orgasm, Slapping, Sleepy Cuddles, Snuff, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Submission, Threats, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Top Kylo Ren, Urination, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Water, choking on water, pet kink, snuff fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottled_System/pseuds/Mottled_System
Summary: You and Kylo Ren have a very particular dynamic; you have kinky sex, and pine for each other silently, certain that the other doesn't want anything to do with you in any other way. Of course, your 'relationship' didn't exactly have the most... Conventional... Of beginnings... And you are a spy for the enemy, which does throw an extra wrench into things.There are only a handful of ways this could go. Five, to be exact- you break up, you join the FO, a consensual snuff scene, you run away together, or he returns to the Resistance. Your choice.
Relationships: Ben Solo & You, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & You, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/You, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren & Reader, Kylo Ren & You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	1. One Night At A Time

Your arms are splayed towards the ceiling and your legs toward the floor, spread eagle and exposed for the hungry eyes of Kylo Ren as he paces around you like a prowling wolf, a riding crop gripped firmly in his gloved hand. Occasionally he deigns to send it with a sharp flourish against your skin that would leave you hissing into the air were you capable of breathing at all. Ever sparingly, he allows you a single bated breath out and in before restricting your lungs once more, just like the rest of you. He could do this all night; leave you standing here on the tips of your toes, straining each muscle and ligament to its fullest extent, standing there as he watches you as if you are but a meal to a starving man. Sometimes, he does- those always leave you tired and worn and desperate, though, decreasing your productivity in your daily life. Not that he  _ particularly _ cares, but you’re grateful he doesn’t leave you feening for him too often.

And you’re thankful, as he releases you and watches you collapse dutifully onto the ground, kneeling obediently for him, that tonight is not one of those nights. You have had a long and arduous day, one full of exhausting debacles and debates, infuriating subordinates, condescending superiors. Tonight he gives you exactly the sort of domination you need- he gives as much as he takes, but doesn’t overwhelm you with attention or praise as he sometimes does. Which, of course, is nice, sometimes. Just not tonight.

“Open your mouth,” Kylo bids, and of course you obey, sticking your tongue out as you know will please him. His leather bound finger sets itself atop your tongue and immediately you close your mouth around it and suckle contentedly, listening to the little sounds your mouth makes, feeling the all too familiar taste and texture in your mouth. He adds a second finger, and a third, and you swirl your tongue reverently around them and bob your head back and forth, looking up and him and moaning lewdly as you savor the feeling of being a good little pet and sucking on your master’s fingers like the whore you are. His wrist begins to work then, and you open your mouth and steady your head as he finger fucks your throat vigorously, making you gag, pushing you right up to that sweet limit before it becomes to fast, too deep, too hard before yanking his hand away and leaving you panting there, coming down from the high of behaving. Sometimes, you’re in the mood to be as bratty as can be, but it seems that tonight you are as far from that as could be. Once you’ve recovered, you look back up at Kylo’s handsome face and wait patiently. Seeing you watching him, he slowly lets his hand drift to the zipper of his pants and slides them down, letting the anticipation build within you for him to reveal to you the exact reason you’re here- or, rather, one of the  _ main _ reasons, anyway. When his girthy cock appears in his gloved hand, its semi-erect and just as heady as ever; he steps closer to you so that his cock is only millimeters from your agape lips, and you shiver happily as his masculine scent overwhelms you. He strokes himself slowly, and you know he’s enjoying watching you crave him.

It’s moments like these where you’re reminded of how truly-  _ strange _ \- your situation is, how truly special you each find the other, in your odd ways. He’d never kept a woman around very long, and you are the exception to that- he said it was your  _ devotion _ , the way you absolutely crave him and everything he does to you. In truth, you think it has more to do with the way the two of you seem to mesh so well, in and out of the bedroom- outside of sex, it’s always interesting and exciting, like everytime is the first time, like you could do this forever and never tire of each other, but never overstepping boundaries. And, in the bedroom, well- you both enjoy the same… Unorthodox experiences. You’d shared with him kinks and fetishes you’d be far too ashamed to tell anyone else, and he did to you things no one else would likely be willing to try. Neither of you overstepped any boundaries because, well, there weren’t any. You were his toy- his pet- his anything. He was your master- your pleasure- your everything.

It’s risky. You  _ know _ it’s risky. Everything is at stake, and yet you tempt failure every night you spend with him. But you just can’t bring yourself to care.

The brief moment of him being content to stroke himself as he watches your lust, however, ends shortly, and he taps his sizeable member against your bottom lip. “Open,” he commands once more, and you do, lolling your tongue against the underside of him. He grabs your hair firmly in his hand and you shudder at the feeling as he pulls you into position, the heft of his cock never leaving your tongue. He pulls you forward until he’s sheathed himself in your throat, and you feel the malleability of his semi-hard cock grow stiff and unyielding as your mouth hardens him further. Your throat clenches reflexively around him and you control the faint urge to gag, letting your eyes roll back as he moves his hips but a tiny fraction, never really pulling out but giving himself even a small amount of friction. It isn’t until your lungs are screaming for air and your eyes are watering that he pulls your head back far enough for you to breathe, and you suckle him greedily as you do, not minding the tears flowing down your cheeks as you work, swirling your tongue around his tip only to deepthroat him again, then bobbing back and forth. He watches you, hissing and groaning as you work, until his salty precum pours into your mouth and overwhelms your senses. He pulls back then and stares down at you, your mouth and agape and chin dribbling your greedy spit, cheeks and temples covered in tears. You gaze back up at him; his espresso-colored eyes are fierce and wild, his plump lips quirked into a hint of a smirk. “Do you like getting your throatpussy fucked, slut?”

“Yes, daddy,” you coo, your voice guttural and needy.

He drags you upwards by your hair and you whimper as he presses your naked body against his thick clothing, your head wrenched back so you look up at his face which has been consumed by _ that _ look, the one that is seemingly angry and pleased at once, a sadistic urge glimmering in his eyes. “I must not have been fucking you hard enough, then,” he remarks coldly before spitting on your face. Obediently, you close your eyes and stick out your tongue as he spits on you two, three times, then smears it over your face with a gloved hand. Then, he shoves you towards his bed and you land bent over it with a grunt; he grabs your hips and slams you back against him, grinding his manhood against your fully soaked slit. You moan into the mattress and lean into him, arching your back. He slaps your ass several times. “Such a plump little slut,” he growls, smoothing his hands over your hips, your ass, your thighs. “Such a pretty sight.”

“Thank you, master.”

He slaps you again, almost too hard this time, and you gasp before leaning into him as he strokes the sore skin. He grabs you by the hair once more and yanks you back before pushing several of his fingers into your mouth again. “Get them wet,” he says. “That’s the only lube you’re going to get tonight.”

You moan into his hands as you soak them happily, already anticipating the sweet, burning pleasure of him fucking your ass again. He only takes you there occasionally, but it’s a sweet occasion for you both. He removes his fingers and caresses your entrance tenderly, sending a cold shiver up your spine. He presses one of those beloved fingers inside the first ring, then against the second, finding it unyielding. He toys with it for a moment as you revel in the feeling of his teasing, his other hand stroking the leather up your body gently, all but tickling you.

“Loosen up for your master, slut,” he snarls at you. “Unless you’re in the mood to cry tonight.”

You’re not. You will your body to relax, to yield to him, and you feel his finger finally slip inside of you, moaning at the familiar intrusion as he presses his index finger deeper in before following it with his middle finger. You struggle to permit it, but he does press it inside of you, and then you relinquish control of your body; he can manipulate your walls himself now. He fucks your asshole slowly, moistening your insides and watching you. His other hand is still teasing your back, and it’s a deliciously serene moment, full of a gentle but intoxicating bliss. It’s one of those moments you could live in forever without ever growing bored or overwhelmed.

But it passes, eventually, as he spreads you further and spits on his cock, neglecting your back to stroke the makeshift lubricant over his cock before pressing himself inside of you. You struggle to keep your body calm and relaxed as he stretches you unnaturally wide and pushes himself in, but once he’s in, he lets you clench around him and growls at the sensation. You moan and shudder as his cock fills your ass, pushing all the way inside you. The pleasure tears through your walls as they seize and shudder uselessly around him, incapable of pushing something so big and heavy out. He leans his weight into you, clutching your hips, and you whimper happily at the feeling of being absolutely stretched to your limit around him.

And then he’s thrusting wildly and you’re moaning and crying out happily into the bed as he reams you, grunting and moaning behind you. His thrusts are fierce and unforgiving, and your body is all but in a panic as it’s forced to submit to the whims of its intruder. You bask in the ecstasy of it, the foreign pleasure, the feeling of his fat, heavy cock all but tearing you in half. His hands slap and caress you, grip and scratch your skin. Then, he pulls your arms back and you feel your breasts bounce helplessly in the air; he lifts a leg up and leans over you, his thrusts ever more animalistic, and he peers over your body to watch them, kissing and biting and snarling into your skin. Your pussy is on fire, desperate to be filled and yet entirely neglected.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you gasp. “Fuck me in my whore ass,”

“What?” he demands.

“Fuck me in my whore ass, sir,” you repeat, overwhelmed with pleasure and desperation.

He slams you suddenly into the bed and stops thrusting all together, buried to the hilt inside of you. He slaps your ass as hard as he can, making you whimper and shiver and come deliciously close to whimpering out the word  _ mercy _ . “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, cunt?” he snarls, yanking your head to the side so he can spit on you again.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you whimper, squirming. “I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”

“I think you should fucking pay for talking to me like that, don’t you,  _ good girl _ ?”

You whimper again, wiggling your hips. You have to tread carefully now. “Yes, sir,” you say softly. “Of course, sir. But you should finish fucking me first, shouldn’t you, sir? If you’re enjoying it, I mean- no reason to squander your enjoyment just for some stupid, insolent whore.”

He conceals his smirk but lets you see the amused glint in his eyes, thrusting one grand thrust into you again. “That’s right, bitch. You’re just a useless little fuckhole for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” you gasp. He starts fucking you again, still pinning you into the bed.

“This is all you’ll ever be good for- taking my cock in whichever filthy fucking hole I want. It’s more than you deserve, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” you say. “You’re so fucking much more.”

“Good bitch,” he growls as he heaves your hips closer to his, fucking you in the raw, untamed way. “At least you know your place.”

He fucks you for a long time, his grunts and groans growing ever more desperate and ever closer together. You feel him start to twitch and flex inside of you, feel the trickle of his precum in your ass. He’s kissing and nibbling on your neck again, your jaw, your ear, snarling into you and dragging his tongue over your skin. You truly do feel like a bitch being bred like this; as you grow ever closer to your own explosion, you imagine being kept like that- all wrapped up on your knees and elbows, never permitted to speak, just a yipping little toy to be fucked and bred and filled with your owner’s seed.

“Say my name,” he snarls into your ear, and you know exactly which name he means. “Say my fucking name.”

“Ben,” you gasp- the name you’re only permitted to utter as he’s filling you up. “Ben- please, may I come?”

He doesn’t even make you beg for it like he usually does, just hisses a yes as he floods your ass with cum, his thrusts growing uncontrolled and sporadic. You sputter there a moment as a rolling wave of pleasure crashes over your body and you revel in it, in the feeling of creaming yourself as he fucks you ruthlessly in your ass, filling you up to the brim with his delicious seed. Then, after the crescendo fades, he pulls back and sits on the edge of the bed. You lay there immobile for a moment before clambering into his lap. He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes guarded. “Does the whore think she’s going to get out of her punishment?”

His voice, while taunting, holds the undertone of a reluctant permittance. “No, sir,” you say quickly, but curl into him, anyway. “But- mercy, please. Just a break.”

He folds instantly, laying back gently and holding you in his arms. He strokes your hair gently, staring up at the ceiling. You wish he was naked, or at least that his chest was bare, but you can’t bring yourself to move in order for him to undress, so you curl into his neck and bask in his warmth. You feel his chest raising and falling softly, hear his soft breaths, focus on the gentle thud of his beating heart.

Sometimes you think you might have fallen in love with him- times like these, when he holds you and everything else falls away. No Order, no Resistance, no work, no sex, just two living and breathing human beings finding sweet solace in the arms of one another. Times like these you wish you could beg him to take you away from it all and live every day and night like this, alone and at peace.

But, alas.

Sadness overwhelms you and you sit up; he sees it in your eyes and frowns, a look of concern etching itself onto his face. You rub your palm against the thick fabric of his shirt. “I’m ready to be punished, sir, should it please you.”

He sits up and you watch him with growing anticipation. He stands you up and puts you right back into position; arms and legs stretched out, muscles taut, as you wait for him to bother to do anything to you at all.

Eventually, he walks away and into the bathroom, though thankfully, you are still permitted to breathe occasionally. You’re suddenly released entirely, then, so you sheepishly walk into the bathroom. He’s undressing himself, the bath full of water, and you shiver in anticipation.

“Come,” he demands, and you obey, skin crawling at the sound of his voice- the sound of that ever beloved word. It only ever means pleasant things for you. He grabs your hair and yanks your head back suddenly, pulling at your scalp, making you whine into the air. “You don’t speak to me like that, do you, cunt?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“I bet you are,” he snarls, his breath tickling your jaw. “I’ll make you sorrier.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever pleases you, sir.”

He thrusts his knee suddenly into the back of your legs and you buckle, knees falling heavily against the floor, making you gasp and whimper as fear and pain, as delectable as ever, flood you. Then, your head is thrust under water and held there; knowing this particular punishment, you do as you’re intending, flailing and fighting against him with all your strength, letting the desperation and fear flood over you as your body screams for air. He seldom lets you up- only seconds before you black out- and for barely any time at all.

Eventually, after your body is sore and your lungs are on fire, he uses the Force to hold you still, making your muscles seize beneath his will. He leans forward and lets your head up just enough so that you can hear him- “Breathe.”

You don’t question him, or worry. You inhale two lungfuls of water and chortle violently, your body autonomously struggling with a renewed vigor.

He lets you up and watches you cough and struggle and gag, holding you firmly. “Remember your safeword,” he says every few moments as you struggle, full of pain and fear. “Remember your safeword.”

You collapse to the side, blinking tiredly at the water splashed about the entirety of the bathroom floor. He’s holding you sweetly, stroking your arm, your arm, lips against your head. He kisses you gently every once in a while. “Such a good girl,” he whispers sweetly. “So good at listening.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, baby?”

You shiver happily. You love it when he calls you sweet things. “Can we lay down, please?”

“Mhm,” he says, and lifts you up as if you are as light as air. He carries your tired body to the bed, drying you both with what you presume is the Force, and lays you down on the bed. He studies your body for a long moment as you look at his; sleepily, you admire his broad shoulders and strong chest, his masculine frame, his semi-hard cock, the taut thighs and chiseled shins. “What do you want?”

“Your fingers, please, sir,” you request. “And a few kisses, should it please you.”

His expert hands, now free from their gloves, find your slit and begin to stroke you gently, bringing your body to life. Kylo leans forward and kisses you sloppily on the mouth, your tongues occasionally pressing into one another, his teeth sometimes lightly biting down on your lip. After your cunt is wet and your body is hungry for him, he pulls away to kneel in front of you and presses two fingers inside of you, kissing your clit just like he’d kissed your lips. You moan and squirm gently as he makes love to you with his fingers and mouth, groaning appreciatively every once in a while, sending a shiver of delight through your body.

“Please,” you beg after what could be an eternity, could be mere minutes. “Please, daddy, may I cum?”

“Hmm,” he hums against your clit and you groan loudly.

“Please, please- let me cream myself for you…”

He suckles on your throbbing bud, humming even more, and you see little white dots against your eyelids as you struggle not to cum.

“Please, daddy! I need to cum. I’m a good girl, I swear.”

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispers into your flesh, and another more painful wave of orgasm rushes over you, and he keeps kissing and fingering you until it’s over, until your body is spent beneath him. He lays down and pulls you into him once more, and you lay there.

The reality that this is temporary and fleeting finds you again, an unwilling beholder of this truth. You curl into him again as if you could melt into him and become one, inseparable. You wish you could stay with him forever. You wish you could be together forever. But… You’re hyper aware of the fact that, quite simply, you cannot.

_ One night at a time, _ you whisper gloomily to yourself.  _ And tonight has been perfect. _

You cannot fight with yourself on that.


	2. That First Night

You’ll never forget the first night. Ever.

You had just grown accustomed to life on the Supremacy, to life as an officer of the First Order-  _ supposedly _ . You’d just gotten used to being a spy for the Resistance when you saw him for the first time.

You were following Hux around as you often did, listening to instructions and generally playing secretary when he had come up to the two of you- well, to Hux. You had been around him, sort of, before- who could miss the masked man that wandered the ship, Supreme Leader’s hellhound on a short leash with an even shorter temper. But he’d been far away, and he’d always had his helmet on. Not that day, though.

Kylo Ren was a painfully beautiful man with dark, threatening eyes and a constant air of intimidation around him. His brow was always furrowed with what seemed to be annoyance and his mouth was always set into what seemed to disapproval. Whenever he looked at you, no matter who you were, you were suddenly struck with the terrible sinking feeling that you had done, or were doing, something horribly wrong and had ought to fix it  _ quickly _ while you still had the ability.

He had studied you with disinterest, only for a moment, not wasting time with-  _ whoever _ you were. It had been insulting, infuriating. It had gotten all the way under your skin. Every other man on the ship paid attention to you- most of the higher ups, old and haughty and proud, only paid attention to you for one reason (or, two, depending on how you counted) and most of the younger ones, or ones far below you in power, only paid attention to you for your scowls and get-it-done attitude- but they all paid attention, for one reason or another.

You don’t remember what Kylo and Hux discussed. You don’t remember the rest of the day. You don’t remember what exactly it was that Hux had sent you to deliver to Kylo’s chambers after dismissing you for the day, only that he did send you and you did go, arriving at Kylo’s door feeling a bit more snobbish than you generally did.

It took him ages to answer the door, peering down at you as if you were a nuisance, a waste of time. You don’t remember the exact words said, but you remember he was callous and cold and dismissive, and you were searing and offended. When you’d handed him the file- yes, a manila folder, as you vaguely remember- his hand brushed over yours and you’d gasped loudly, yanking your hand back as if he’d groped you and scowling up at him.

He’d been amused, and it had only angered you further. You do remember, quite clearly, his next words- they had seared themselves into your brain. Many a times had you creamed yourself remembering his voice. “A bit feisty, aren’t you, Y/N?” He’d snarled with a mocking caricature of cordial interest. “You whores are always the least fun to fuck.”

So raunchy. So degrading. So-  _ mean _ . You slapped him, right across the face, and he’d let you. You can picture his face now as his jaw worked, see his head as it turned back towards you, his eyes angry and stern. “How dare you-”

He grabbed you by the jaw then and yanked you close, his mouth centimeters from yours. “You hit me again, bitch,” he snarled. “And I’ll show you  _ exactly _ how fucking useless you are in bed.”

He’d released you and you’d stormed off, as crimson as a setting sun, as furious as you’d ever been.

And so,  _ so _ turned on.

It was weeks after that, slowly coming to terms with how badly you wanted him to abuse you in bed. At first, you wouldn’t admit it all, enraged at yourself the moment the unbidden and unwelcome desires made their way into your head. Then, you began to think of it on the brink of orgasm, when you were too far gone to stop yourself, and eventually, you couldn’t deny it anymore. Yet, still you permitted it only to exist in your mind, reluctantly, abashedly. It took you probably three months, at least, before you had sauntered anxiously to his room and pounded on the door. He didn’t seem amused to see you, or intrigued that you had shown up, just stared at you, bored.

You’d give anything to knock the disinterest out of him. So, you slapped him again, and again, he let you.

He’d grabbed you by the throat this time and slammed you against the wall, his forehead on yours as he scowled at you. “Do you remember what I fucking said, cunt?”

“Yes,” you managed through his hold on your throat. “Good fucking luck. I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

He’d spat on you then and you gasped- then, he slapped you several times, until your head was spinning and your ears were ringing. He’d slammed you into the wall again. “You say  _ mercy _ if you need it,” he growled. “And  _ red _ if you can’t handle it. Do you understand me?”

“I don’t need-”

“Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes.”

He’d slammed your head against the metal wall so hard your vision gave out for a moment. “Good. I’m going to make you fucking suffer.” He threw you onto the floor then and wrestled your clothes off of you; full of panic and entirely overwhelmed, you’d thrashed and fought, grunted and kicked and  _ screamed _ .

You’d dreamed about him pinning you down and forcing himself inside of you. You’d dreamed of him beating the shit out of you, until your nose was bloody and broken and your brain was mush, and then fucking you, barely conscious. This wasn’t that rough- you’re not sure you’d like it that rough in reality- but this was  _ intense _ , and you absolutely loved it.

He had your body bent painfully beneath him, his weight pressing uncomfortably into you, when he moved his lips to your ear. “Tell me your safewords,” he said.

“Mercy and red,” you whined, struggling still.

“Do you need to use them?”

“No!”

He slammed your head into the floor again. “Good,” he said sardonically. “I’m surprised.”

“Shut the fuck up,”

He was on his feet then, suddenly, and he kicked you in the stomach  _ hard _ . You groaned and curled up, whimpering as his foot moved backwards again. “Mercy,” you gasped.

“Just mercy?” he asked.

“Just mercy.”

He nudged you onto your back with his foot and stepped on your stomach, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to elicit another mercy. He spat on your face again, then kicked you in the side several times. You were definitely going to bruise- and you did, a half dozen purple splotches spreading over your abdomen and aching for long enough that you’d begun to worry. You scowled up at him.

“You get off to this, you fucking freak?”

He crouched in front of you and spat on you again. “Open your mouth again and I’ll fill it with piss.”

You stared at him for a long time. His dark eyes were a challenge-  _ do you  _ really _ want me to piss in your mouth? _ After a long, pregnant pause, you spat angrily on  _ his _ face. “Fuck you.”

He moved as fast as you’d ever seen anyone move; before you knew it, he’d grabbed your hair and was dragging you towards the bathroom. With a pained squeal you struggled to your feet and clambered after him, clutching his wrist as if for dear life as he led you. He all but threw you onto the floor of the shower and kicked you in the stomach again, as hard as the last time, before slamming your head against the tile wall. “Ballsy little bitch, aren’t you?” He growled hatefully, though you could hear the excitement in his voice. He quickly fiddled with his pants to pull his cock out- you squeezed your mouth shut, squeezed your eyes shut, mentally preparing for the inevitable. “Just don’t know when to lay down and submit. I’ll fucking teach you.” He squeezed your cheeks, all but forcing your mouth open; you flailed and whimpered and struggled. “Open that fucking mouth, you dumb cunt,” you snarled. “Or I’ll break your fucking jaw.”

You shook your head and continued to fight. After a moment, though, he stopped and got close to you again. “You open your mouth and be a good girl, or you say red, or I  _ will _ break your fucking jaw.”

You looked up at him, feeling wild and unhinged, and for one moment- one precious moment- you imagined him breaking your jaw and pissing down your throat, watching you gag on it, watching you weep with the pain.

The thought- the  _ throbbing _ of your cunt at it- horrified you. You opened your mouth and he stood back up, holding his cock in one hand. You looked up at him, blinking almost sheepishly, thinking  _ is he really going to _ -

And then a stream of hot piss hit your lip, your tongue, your eyes and everything else. You whimpered and closed your eyes, feeling it pool in your mouth. When he was done, and you were drenched in it, you gargled with it and you heard him hiss- “Fuck yeah, you filthy fucking whore. You like that? You like my piss in your mouth?”

You spat it at him and he let out an angry oath before slapping you so hard you fell over. He kicked you a few more times until you sputtered- was that  _ blood _ mixing with the piss pooled on the floor?- before turning the shower head on. Icy cold water blasted over you and you squealed, but he stepped on you and held you down. He stripped and rinsed himself off before finally letting you up, dragging you by your wet hair forward until you were on the floor of his bedroom.

You heard him grab something as you flung yourself forward and away from him, your entire body aching, your cunt desperate to be pounded. He dragged you back by your ankle, prolonging your failed escape until finally he had you secured beneath him, his rock hard erection pressed into your plush behind. He yanked your head back by your hair as far as it would go. “Open your fucking mouth?”

“Eat shit,” you snarled.

Suddenly, though, a red lightsaber was spitting at your throat as it ignited, and you shuddered with a delicious fear. “I’m not going to ask you again,” he said. “In fact, I think I’d rather like throatfucking your decapitated head.”

_ Holy shit _ . You open your mouth with a whimper as your cunt throbs eagerly.

“What are your safewords?” he asked.

“Mercy and red.”

“Do you want to use them?”

“No.”

He gave an approving snarl. “Good bitch.” He deactivated the lightsaber and pressed it into your mouth- it was too big, wide and long, full of grooves and rivets. You squealed as he worked it further in, jamming it down until you swore your jaw was going to rip open, but it didn’t- however, the blade did ignite once more, making you whine in terror as the two side ports threatened to incinerate your face. “You tap on the ground three times, and it all stops, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” you struggle to grunt against the lightsaber in your throat. Tears prickle your eyes. You have to hold your head up awkwardly to avoid hitting the ground with the blade, making the pain all the worse.

You swear you could have cum just from that.

He spread your ass cheeks and hissed approvingly. “Look at that,” he said mockingly, rubbing his hand against your silken, needy folds. “You fucking love this, don’t you, you fucking whore? You love pain and piss and being thrown around like you’re fucking nothing.”

“Uh-uh,” you argued uselessly. You were grinding back against his hands as he roughly stroked your cunt.

“No? Do you want to tap out?”

“Uh-uh,” you said, a lot less enthusiastically. He yanked your hair back and you guffawed at the pain.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He released you only to impale your hungry cunt with three fingers at the same time, and you squealed into your de facto gag once more. He fucked you roughly like that and you bounced back into him, shaking and whimpering and cooing with a whorish delight. “Good slut- that’s a good fucking whore, yeah, you love it. Fucking take it, cunt. Take whatever I want to fucking give you.”

It was only a matter of time before he replaced his hand with his meaty cock, shoving it all the way in and fucking you  _ violently _ with it, until you were just a moaning, drooling mess, your juices flowing freely over your thighs and your spit pouring freely down your chin, bouncing off your tits, pooling on the floor.

You came three times before he did, growing ever more incoherent and thoughtless with each one. By the time he’d pumped you full of cum, the only thing you could think about was him forcing the lightsaber down your throat again- the other way. Would it be fast? Slow? How much would that hurt?

Could he fuck you again before you died?

When he was done the lightsaber flew out of your mouth and you gagged aloud before collapsing into the cooled pile of saliva on the tile below you, shuddering and sore. You could hear him panting, feel his hand on your ass, feel his seed gushing out of you. With a wave of his hand, though, you were both clean. You looked back at him tiredly.

He was eyeing you anew, appraising you, deciding. Proud satisfaction flooded you, perhaps prematurely. “All that build-up for  _ that _ ? Plain old doggy style, what, with a gag?”

He narrowed his eyes at you and smirked before slapping your ass again. “Get out or get to bed. I don’t care which.”

Of course, you’d gone to bed with him, curled into him, listening to his heart beat.


	3. The Final Night (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide how I wanted this fic to end, so I wrote five endings. This is the beginning of each of them.  
> Version One: Kylo and reader break up; Kylo stays with the First Order, reader returns to the Resistance.  
> Version Two: Kylo and reader stay in the First Order; Kylo remains somewhat emotionally stunted, and reader remains kinda codependent.  
> Version Three: Consensual snuff. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat  
> Version Four: Reader and Ben/Kylo run away together, and reader is pregnant. ~Fluff~  
> Version Five: Ben can't bring himself to kill reader, so reader convinces him to return to the Resistance. Ben reunites with his parents.

You sit across from Kylo at his dining room table. His eyes are downcast and his expression is melancholy. You’re not sure if that makes the situation better or worse.

But you have to tell him. You simply cannot continue to lie to him. “Ben,” you breathe.

His eyes shoot towards yours and his jaw clenches- a stronger reaction than if you’d slapped him. “What?”

“I- have to tell you something,” you whisper, voice breaking, as if your body is refusing to cooperate.

“No,” he says, his voice sounding- broken.

“What?”

“Don’t- love me,” he says, and you frown.

You do love him. Is now the time to tell him? He  _ is _ the one to have brought it up. “I do love you,” you say, and he squeezes his eyes shut as if you’ve pained him greatly. “But that’s not what I need to tell you. It’s…  _ Why _ I need to tell you.”

He stares at the table for a long moment. You feel like you should be aching for his reaction, for his insistence. In truth, you’re just… Confused. You thought he loved you, too. Maybe he does- maybe that’s why he looks so… Dejected.

“I’m a spy,” you say, and he looks at you again. “For the Resistance. I- I have been, always.”

He frowns, slowly, as if the meaning of your words takes a moment to truly sink in. He looks to the side, seeming to grow- angry? No, you’ve seen him angry. Right now, he looks… Bitter. “Oh.” He says plainly, emotionlessly.

You don’t know what to say to that, so you touch his hand, and he looks down at your hands with empty eyes.

It was definitely the worst case scenario, then.

“I love you,” you say as tears well up in your eyes. He looks at you again with an unfamiliar expression- almost disgust.

“Of course you do,” he says dryly. “Get out. Now. Run back to your traitors while you still can.”

“Ben-” you plead, voice cracking once more as your tears begin to fall. You grip his hand desperately-

He’s on his feet the moment you’re done speaking his name, though, and he ignites his lightsaber and points it at your throat. “Go!” He roars. “And don’t ever say that name again.”

You stare at him for a long time.


	4. Part Two, Version One - Restless Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 1/5

“I love you,” you say as tears well up in your eyes. He looks at you again with an unfamiliar expression- almost disgust.

“Of course you do,” he says dryly. “Get out. Now. Run back to your traitors while you still can.”

“Ben-” you plead, voice cracking once more as your tears begin to fall. You grip his hand desperately-

He’s on his feet the moment you’re done speaking his name, though, and he ignites his lightsaber and points it at your throat. “Go!” He roars. “And don’t ever say that name again.”

You stare at him for a long time.

Then, finally, you stand. Reality seems to slip away as you stare at one another. “Whatever pleases you,” you whisper as your voice cracks and finally, the tears begin to fall. “I will always-”

“I will not repeat myself again,” he growls. Hatred is burning in his eyes, something you’ve never seen, and it breaks your heart. You look at the door as your tears blur your vision, and you focus on putting each foot in front of the other.

You leave, flying back to the Resistance, feeling empty and used and cast aside, feeling useless. You meant nothing to him; how could he have turned on you like that otherwise?

You go to General Organa, and you report the failure of your mission. You don’t notice that she notices how despondent you are.

Your days are busy and your nights are restless.

But, you go on. You fight on, alone.


	5. Part Two, Version Two - A Night In Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 2/5

“I love you,” you say as tears well up in his eyes. He looks at you again with an unfamiliar expression- almost disgust.

“Of course you do,” he says dryly. “Get out. Now. Run back to your traitors while you still can.”

“Ben-” you plead, voice cracking once more as your tears begin to fall. You grip his hand desperately-

He’s on his feet the moment you’re done speaking his name, though, and he ignites his lightsaber and points it at your throat. “Go!” He roars. “And don’t ever say that name again.”

You stare at him for a long time.

“I don’t want to,” you say desperately. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to leave, damnit- I told you because I want to stay. With you, here, in the Order.”

He stares at you for a long time, eyes guarded, but you can practically see the gears in his head working, neurons firing. “You do?”

“Yes,” you gasp desperately, almost breathlessly. You kick the chair away to fall to your knees in front of him; rather than let his lightsaber burn your face, he jerks it out of the way. “Punish me. Hate me. Make me  _ pay _ for helping them, even long after what- what we have started. But  _ please _ \- don’t make me leave,” you weep out. “Everyone always makes me leave. I can’t lose you.  _ Please _ .”

The room is silent for a long moment as you kneel there, tears falling onto his spitting, fiery blade. You stare at it until it has burned your retinas, not daring to look up at him. Finally, though, he deactivates the lightsaber. You blink several times to clear your vision, but the searing red light persists.

Maybe that’s symbolic.

He drops to his knees in front of you and you look up at him with shock. He looks melancholy once more, and his lip- is  _ quivering _ . You can’t help but fall into his chest and he catches you, holding you tightly. You cry into him on the floor for a long time.

“You’re mine,” he says, sounding almost like a bitter child. “All mine.”

“Yes,” you agree vehemently. “Endlessly.”

He lifts you up and carries you like a ragdoll to the bedroom, setting you on the bed. He undresses quickly, face haunted and eyes hollow, and you coyly do the same. This is unexplored territory- his emotions as well as the dynamic between you. For once, you do not know more or less what to expect. He catches your face with a hand and looks into your eyes- a familiar fondness appears behind the mask of stunted emotions. “I- love you,” he grinds out.

You gasp softly as butterflies dance in your chest, pulling you ever farther away from the terror you’d felt when he’d roared for you to leave. “I love you, too-”

“Kylo,” he snaps. “My name is Kylo.”

“I love you, too, Kylo.”

He kisses you hurriedly on the mouth and you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Your carefully upheld and highly revered roles are nonexistent- you are just two sad, broken souls, desperate to be joined with one another, and any semblance of control exercised by either one of you is long gone. His tongue explores your mouth like an undiscovered cavern and you greedily accept, your tongues dancing together like waves on rocks. His hands find your hips and you moan as he strikes you once, twice, thrice. Then, he lets his hands wander over your body- sometimes roughly, sometimes gently, striking you occasionally, scratching you periodically.

He pushes you back onto the bed and yanks you closer by your legs, spreading them open. You lay them on his shoulders as he kneads your breasts. His face has grown more composed, but storms linger in his dark eyes. He looks at you, his expression as fierce as ever. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you breathe. “Kylo Ren. I belong to you.”

Your answer seems to please him. He spits on your clit before gently toying with it, rubbing your lubricant over your sensitive flesh as he makes you ever wetter. “Did you  _ fuck _ any of them, whore?”

You wince. “No, sir,” you say.

“Good,” he says. “This pussy is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes, master.”

He slaps it softly and you whimper. “What do you want?”

You shiver. “Anything that pleases you, my master,”

He leans forward and kisses you on the lips, surprisingly tender. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He rubs the head of his heady cock against your folds and you moan loudly. He slowly pushes inside of you, groaning all the way, before leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you whimper delightedly. “Yes.”

He fucks you primally, unceremoniously, grunting and groaning as your fluids slicken the bed, your legs, his stomach. You feel like a feral, wild animal, thoughtless and hungry for the fast thrusting of your mate.

You don’t ask to come, just cream on his cock once, twice, more; he doesn’t reprimand you, just groans and grunts as he revels in the vice-like grip you have on him. He bites your ear as he floods your cunt with his seed; you cry out as his teeth break skin. When he pulls back, there’s blood on his lip.

He lays back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling with an impassive expression on his too-handsome face. You curl into him and he strokes your arm absent-mindedly.

This isn’t what you had expected. This isn’t the sweet heaven you imagined your life together to be. This isn’t the torrential hell you’d imagined life without him to be.

This is purgatory, being suspended without pleasure or pain- the two things you both loved dearly.


	6. Part Two, Version Three - A Special Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 3/5

“I love you,” you say as tears well up in your eyes. He looks at you again with an unfamiliar expression- almost disgust.

“Of course you do,” he says dryly. “Get out. Now. Run back to your traitors while you still can.”

“Ben-” you plead, voice cracking once more as your tears begin to fall. You grip his hand desperately-

He’s on his feet the moment you’re done speaking his name, though, and he ignites his lightsaber and points it at your throat. “Go!” He roars. “And don’t ever say that name again.”

You stare at him for a long time.

“I can’t,” you gasp. “I can’t be without you.”

His brow twitches, furrowing. “Then stay,” he says. His voice cracks. “Stay and be mine forever.”

But you can’t. “I can’t betray them,” you whimper as tears fall. “I don’t- don’t know what to do, Ben.”

His face twists then into a grimace of pain and bitter anger. He deactivates the lightsaber and falls onto his chair once more, face quickly neutralizing itself as he stares at the table. “Run away with me,” he all but gasps.

And, by the stars, you wish you could. “I can’t abandon them,” you whisper. “The First Order will mow them down like sickly cattle. Together, we could help them, save them-”

“No,” he all but growls. “I will  _ never _ join them. Ever.”

“I can’t be without you,” you say again. You move forward and slink into his lap and he holds you, leaning his forehead onto yours, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment. “Kill me.”

His eyes shoot open again and he looks at you as if you’ve gone mad, and maybe you have. But it’s perfect. “I won’t be betraying them, or abandoning them,” you say. “I won’t have to be without you.”

“Y/N-”

“It’ll be just like I’ve imagined so many times,” you say almost fanatically as another tear slides down one of your cheeks. “You fucking me, and then you- driving your lightsaber through me and fucking me more, or suffocating me, drowing me- anything, fuck, anything,” you shudder in anticipation and a delectable terror. “Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined it, too. Fantasized about it.”

He looks away, seeming torn. “Y/N,” he says again.

You lean forward. “Will you fuck me more after I’m gone? Once I’m cold? Will you play with me more- do things to me I couldn’t handle alive?”

He looks at you suddenly, right at your mouth. “I can’t be without you, either,” he says, his voice breaking. “I… Love… You.”

You feel your chest swell and you lean into him, kiss him deeply for a long moment. “Come with me,” you breathe. “We can go together.”

He closes his eyes and his brow furrows. “How do you- want me to kill you?”

Relief floods you, then anticipation, and the embers in your stomach finally roar to life. “However pleases you,” you insist, rolling your hips against him impatiently. “How do you think about it?”

His hands find your hips. “I usually suffocate you,” he says. “You’re used to that pain by now.”

“Yes,” you say.

“Sometimes I… Hurt you first,” he sounds ashamed, guilty, sad. This is not what you had imagined. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he leans his forehead against yours.

“Hurt me how, daddy?” you coo.

“I hit you until you gag on the blood you choke up,” he says, and you shiver once more. “I kick you until you beg for mercy, but I don’t stop. I whip you until your skin is in ribbons, hanging off your tiny, helpless body.”

“Fuck,” you gasp as your cunt throbs. You’re far beyond the shame of your interests now.

“And then I piss on you, and burns you, and you grovel beneath my feet.”

You start to kiss and suckle on the skin on his throat. “More,”

His fingers dig into your skin and you feel him stirring slowly in his pants. “Sometimes I make you choke on my cock, fuck you until you’re passed out and watch you drown in my cum.”

“Mmm,” you say, slipping one of your hands into your pants to circle your clit, stroking his member through his pants with the other.

“Sometimes, I slice off limb by limb with my lightsaber and fuck each hole,” he growls, limp beneath you as you masterbate both of you in synch.

“Fuck,” you say again. “What else?”

“No,” he says. “Your turn.” He picks you up suddenly then, carrying you to the bedroom, where the reverently strips you and lays you on the bed. He kisses tenderly up your thighs. “How do you fantasize about it?”

“Everything you said,” you admit. “And… Sometimes, you keep me- in a cage, all tied up, and you feed me your cum and your piss and you fuck me until I starve- and after.”

He half hums, half growls against the crux between your leg and your groin, pressing his tongue against the skin. “More.”

“Sometimes, you- use the Force. It- I don’t really know how it works, so it’s different every time I imagine it, but you- take hold of me, the very essence of me, and- snuff it out. Just like that, in the blink of an eye,”

He hums again, this time against your lips, right above your clit, and you shiver. Your entrance is soaked and needy already.

“I like thinking about you- hitting me, with something or against the ground or something. Getting angrier and more pleased as I cry more, as I fade away while you fuck me…” His lips find your clitoris and suck on the entirety of it, his tongue pushing the hood away expertly so his teeth can tease the sensitive nub. You cry out and whimper, taking his hair in your fist and holding it there. “Fuck yes, daddy!”

He presses two fingers inside your entrance and fucks you hard and fast. “Keep talking, whore,” he instructs.

“I want- fuck- I want you to- gag me with your lightsaber,” you struggle to stay coherent as he assaults you with everything he’s got, pressing two more fingers into your ass, using the Force to keep your body relaxed and obedient. “I want to fucking choke on your blade while you ream me,”

He growls approval and continues to fuck you like that for a long minute or two until you cum on his hand. Then, he lifts himself up and glides into your pussy easily.

He fucks you long and hard, expertly, as if he was born to breed you. One hand finds your chest, switching between breasts periodically, while the other finds your mouth and suffocates you until you nearly black out before releasing.

You’re hyper aware of the fact that he could kill you at any moment- that he  _ will _ kill you soon- and it’s so much more frightening, more real, more  _ intoxicating _ .

He pulls back and grips his cock for a long moment, getting up and retrieving his riding crop. “Turn around,” he says, and excitedly, you obey.

He strikes you hard, repeatedly- harder than he has beforehand for longer. You doubt this designed-for-sex crop could flay your skin, but his fantasy plays in your mind. He strikes you until you’re weeping into the pillow- far past the point you would have usually said mercy by, but tonight is  _ special _ \- tonight is final. He kneads the skin of your ass and you whimper loudly at the pain of what should be such a tender act.

You want  _ more _ .

“Do it,” you breathe. Anxiety is rising in your chest, anticipation, fear.

Silence- one long moment of silence. Then, you hear his lightsaber fly into his hand, only for him to set it on the bed beside you. He grabs the lube and pours the cold liquid over your entrance, then massages it gently into you, preparing you sweetly.

He leans over you, his cock pressed against you, ready to impale you. His lips nip at your ear, kiss it. “I will always love you,” he breathes.

“I love you, too, Ben,” you say as your heart breaks from the joy and the pain. He presses into you, stretching you, filling you.

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Fuck.”

He thrusts wildly into you, fervently, like a starved coyote attacking a carcass. You don’t fantasize about it now- just savor the moment, each moment, ever fleeting. You’re full of lust and fear and so many neglected emotions. You have to actively ignore the fact that you are abandoning your friends, your lover, every responsibility you’ve ever had.

You just want peace. You just want Ben.

“Now,” you breathe, as an eternity passes without further action on his part. He lifts the lightsaber and holds the business end against your throat. “I love you, Ben Solo,”

“I love you, Y/N,”

The lightsaber ignites and you hear him chortle behind you just before he wrenches the lightsaber upwards, and just like that, you’re gone.


	7. Part Two, Version Four - Lovely Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 4/5

“I love you,” you say as tears well up in your eyes. He looks at you again with an unfamiliar expression- almost disgust.

“Of course you do,” he says dryly. “Get out. Now. Run back to your traitors while you still can.”

“Ben-” you plead, voice cracking once more as your tears begin to fall. You grip his hand desperately-

He’s on his feet the moment you’re done speaking his name, though, and he ignites his lightsaber and points it at your throat. “Go!” He roars. “And don’t ever say that name again.”

You stare at him for a long time.

“I can’t,” you gasp. “I can’t be without you.”

His brow twitches, furrowing. “Then stay,” he says. His voice cracks. “Stay and be mine forever.”

But you can’t. “I can’t betray them,” you whimper as tears fall. “I don’t- don’t know what to do, Ben.”

His face twists then into a grimace of pain and bitter anger. He deactivates the lightsaber and falls onto his chair once more, face quickly neutralizing itself as he stares at the table. “Run away with me,” he all but gasps.

You breathe in slowly, thinking. “Ben…”

“Please,” he gasps gently. “Just be with me.”

You look into his eyes, see the pain and the need and the  _ love _ and the desperation. “Okay,” you breathe before you even know what you’re doing. “Let’s run away together.”

It’s easy, of course, to disappear. To find a planet in the Outer Rim where no one lives and no one knows about. Almost as easy as living with the man you love, free and far away from a never ending- or, at least, ever repeating- war.

He walks up the wooden stairs of the porch, his feet wet from the high tide, his arms full of dry wood from the shed you keep closer to the treeline. He adds them to the small pile you keep on the porch before looking over at you, watching you contentedly. “How sweet of you,”

You’re roasting two marshmallows. Truthfully, they were both for you, but you’re more than happy to give one to him- you dip it deeper into the fire almost reluctantly to burn it, just how he likes it, then hold it up for him to extinguish. He helps you make them both into s’mores, and you toast them like drinks before biting into them.

You moan delightedly into the air. “He loves chocolate,” you coo, looking down at your stomach as you chew. You’re about halfway through your pregnancy and more than eager for your belly to swell so much more.

“Does  _ she _ ?” He taunts gently. You’d both be happy with either a boy or a girl- you hope to have more, anyway.

You finish your treats as the suns set in the distance, the moons appearing all over the sky.

You get up and gently pull Ben to his feet, holding his hands in yours, and sway lovingly to the sound of nothing but the nighttime forest and the waves below your home. He moves with you- not necessarily  _ dancing _ , but swaying, at least. Eventually, though, he pulls you taught against him, his bulge against your back expressing his intention quite clearly. You hum happily, and he leans you onto the railing, overlooking the beach, the trees, the ocean, the sky- everything. His lips find your ear as he grinds against you. “How do you want it?”

“Sweet,” you coo. “Make love to me.”

And, bent over and gazing out at the gorgeous view, make love to you he does.


	8. Part Two, Version Five - The Night Ben Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 5/5

“I love you,” you say as tears well up in your eyes. He looks at you again with an unfamiliar expression- almost disgust.

“Of course you do,” he says dryly. “Get out. Now. Run back to your traitors while you still can.”

“Ben-” you plead, voice cracking once more as your tears begin to fall. You grip his hand desperately-

He’s on his feet the moment you’re done speaking his name, though, and he ignites his lightsaber and points it at your throat. “Go!” He roars. “And don’t ever say that name again.”

You stare at him for a long time.

“I can’t,” you gasp. “I can’t be without you.”

His brow twitches, furrowing. “Then stay,” he says. His voice cracks. “Stay and be mine forever.”

But you can’t. “I can’t betray them,” you whimper as tears fall. “I don’t- don’t know what to do, Ben.”

His face twists then into a grimace of pain and bitter anger. He deactivates the lightsaber and falls onto his chair once more, face quickly neutralizing itself as he stares at the table. “Run away with me,” he all but gasps.

And, by the stars, you wish you could. “I can’t abandon them,” you whisper. “The First Order will mow them down like sickly cattle. Together, we could help them, save them-”

“No,” he all but growls. “I will  _ never _ join them. Ever.”

“I can’t be without you,” you say again. You move forward and slink into his lap and he holds you, leaning his forehead onto yours, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment. “Kill me.”

His eyes shoot open again and he looks at you as if you’ve gone mad, and maybe you have. But it’s perfect. “I won’t be betraying them, or abandoning them,” you say. “I won’t have to be without you.”

“Y/N-”

“It’ll be just like I’ve imagined so many times,” you say almost fanatically as another tear slides down one of your cheeks. “You fucking me, and then you- driving your lightsaber through me and fucking me more, or suffocating me, drowing me- anything, fuck, anything,” you shudder in anticipation and a delectable terror. “Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined it, too. Fantasized about it.”

He looks away, seeming torn. “Y/N,” he says again. He looks at you suddenly, right at your mouth. He closes his eyes and his brow furrows. “How do you- want me to kill you?”

Relief floods you, then anticipation, and the embers in your stomach finally roar to life. “Just do it. With your lightsaber, quick.”

You don’t fantasize about it now- just savor the moment, each moment, ever fleeting. You’re full of lust and fear and so many neglected emotions. You have to actively ignore the fact that you are abandoning your friends, your lover, every responsibility you’ve ever had.

You just want peace. Freedom.

He grabs the lightsaber from the table then-

And, with a furious and pained sound, he whips it across the room. Shocked, you see him as he starts to cry, and you swear your heart breaks in the moment. You caress his cheek, wiping the tears away. “I can’t do it,” he chokes out. “I can’t lose you.  _ Ever _ . Please, Y/N- don’t leave me.”

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him, so raw and honest and open and pained. “No,” you say. “I won’t leave you. I- won’t leave you,” you whisper, moving closer to him. “Come with me, Ben. Back to the Resistance.”

He looks into your eyes then. You see a small struggle within them, and then, he relaxes into his chair as if something has relinquished control. “After all this time,” he says quietly. “After everything I’ve done. You want me to go back?”

“Yes,” you say. “Let’s go back together.”

And you do.

She senses you before she sees you- something Ben remarks quietly as he sits in the pilot seat, looking ghastly. You touch his shoulder and he breathes in slowly as you gently stroke his skin, feeling the material tickle the back of your hand. “It’ll be okay,” you tell him. “No matter what happens, everything will be okay.”

He lands and you both climb off the ship. General Leia Organa is standing there waiting, and Han Solo is beside her- Poe Dameron, too, as well as two people you don’t recognize, a man and a woman. You glance around the planet to a sea of both familiar and unknown faces. It’s been years since you’ve been with them.

Leia stares at her son’s face, looking both frightened and relieved. Han and Ben are equally impassive, but you know Ben- you’re attuned to him; he’s like a child being reunited with his parents, and you suppose- in a way- he is.

“The mission- was a failure,” you say when no one else speaks for a very long time. “But… I brought home a consolation prize.”

Leia looks at you with a small smile for a moment, then back at her son. “Ben,” she says. Then, heartily, she laughs. “My son,”

He lurches forward before almost bending down to hug her tightly, and you see him as he starts to cry quietly into her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he forces out. “I’m so sorry.”

Eventually, he breaks his hug with his mother to embrace his father, an equally long if slightly less teary interaction. He pulls back and looks between them.

“Good to have you back, kid,” Han says quietly.

“Good to see you- good,” Poe chips in.

Ben looks at him for a moment, then down at the ground, and finally- at you. You blink and swallow. “Yeah.”

“And it’s good to see you, too, Y/N,” Leia says. You look over at her, and her eyes are full of what seems like gratitude. She opens her arms and you walk sheepishly forward, hugging her small frame.

“Good to be back,” you say. When you stand up, Ben takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. Han looks at your hands for a long, silent, impassive moment.

“This is Finn, and this is Rey…” Poe says.

And life goes on.  _ Together _ .


End file.
